The Angel, the Witch and the Demon
by SnobbyCow
Summary: With the rise of his Dark lord, the war will bring someone Lucius loved back within arms reach. Only what will he have to do to keep her this time?
1. Chapter 1

**The Angel, the Witch and the Demon**

_**A/N:** I absolutely love the Potter series and as such I was foolish enough to believe that I could write my own story based on these fantastic books. I do not confess to be the best of writers, but greatly enjoy doing it._

_This only the second story I have ever posted and as such, I am very nervous about posting it. Inspiration comes in fits and starts but this piece has been fleeting about in my head for such a long time, that I bravely thought I would run with it. It is a story that incorporates a number of things that I really enjoy. Mythology, sophisticated bad guys and of course the world of Harry Potter!_

_I welcome feedback; though hope it is given in a manner that is not insulting or hurtful. So with a nervous intake of breath, I hope you all enjoy it!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't; unfortunately, own the characters or anything to do with the fantastic world that JK Rowling has created. _

* * *

Everything starts with a beginning.  
It is the simplest things that make a lasting impression.  
A chance encounter that can shape a future.  
It is within our past, that we can look back upon for guidence. A place in which wisdom can be obtained.  
It is a place in which dissappointed hopes, lost dreams and painful memories lie in desperate hopes of being lost.  
Our past, mark our futures. Our futures, are shaped by our past.  
And for those who look out on the world with selfish eyes. What was once a beginning for others.  
Is an ending, waiting for the right mind to construct.

**Chapter 1: Beginnings**

_It had reached that time of night when you could truly feel the deadness of the hour. When the halls and passages are desolate and silent. When sound falls with a crush into the still slumber and any thoughts of activity seems a riot._

_So it came as rather a surprise when; thinking he was quite alone, Lucius suddenly jumped half a mile into the air. When out of now where he heard a little shriek, a fall and the unmistakable crash of breaking glass._

_Calming his rapidly beating heart, the age old combat of fight and flight instincts kicked in. Stay and investigate or get the hell away from here? But thinking himself as someone with a more hardy nature, he sought to investigate instead. Of course it could be nothing more than a trumped up scene of Peeves the Poltergeist, thinking it funny to lure a stray student into trouble for breaking curfew. No doubt the useless squib Filch was lurking about nearby as well. But something made him feel that this was different. Peeves surely wouldn't want to intrude on the Bloody Baron? What's more the scream had distinctly sounded very much like a girl._

_So with the rapidly growing need to gratify his curiosity, Lucius sulked down the darken halls in search of the perpetrator._

_It was not as though he was overly concerned about actually being caught out of hours. As a prolific member of the Slug Club; a specially acclaimed group of pre-selected students chosen by his head of house and Hogwarts' very own Potions Master, he was certain that Professor Horace Slughorn would ensure he was exempt from any severe reprimanding. Beside which, he was already safe within Slytherin territory and would have been stepping into the entrance of Slytherin common room; his home away from home, if not for this unwanted distraction. Of course he dismissed the obvious notion of simply ignoring the matter out of hand._

_"Finite Incantatem." He whispered, casting his lit wand and the surrounding area into total darkness. If it really was Peeves he was not about to let him; or whoever else it might be, know that he was coming._

_Once certain that his presence was still unknown to this would be intruder, he started off in a manner not that dissimilar from a sulking cat._

_The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle; located under the school itself, was as a result much colder than many areas of the main castle. But already; now at the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, he had become quite accustom to the drop in temperature. As well as having gained; what he was certain, an unrivalled and extensive knowledge of the dungeons' many hidden secretes. There was not a room, hall or cupboard that he did not know about. Down here he was the master and as such, had no qualms about sneaking about in the dark._

_Lithe and agile, Lucius turned a corner and was not surprised to find himself standing outside the potions classroom. What did surprise him however; when peering into the darkened room itself, was the unexpected face peering back at him from behind the door._

_"Arrggghhh!"_

_It was out of his mouth before he had time to think. His only slight vindication was the same echo he heard coming from his scarcer. Fumbling for his wand his hands only stilled their search, when his eyes kicked in with his brain and he was able to properly process what it was he was actually seeing. Unfortunately the same could not be said about the person before him. Before the scream had finished leaving her lips, Lucius found a wand jammed between his eyes. It was then; staring in a rather crossed eyed fashion, while quickly raising his hands defensively. He realized that he recognized the perpetrator._

_"What are you doing sulking about in the dark Slytherin?"_

_"Surely I should be asking that of you?" Raising an eyebrow in indignation, as sarcasm laced his words._

_"Lumos." Was the reply, as he was forced to snap his eyes shut._

_Silently seething; for he was certain she had done that deliberately, he squinted more than glared back his contempt at her ignorance at the true predicament of her situation. It may seem differently at the moment; what with him standing there with a wand thrust in his face, but she must know who had the real upper hand here. After all; by all appearances, it was he who had caught her out in the more pressing of circumstances._

_"I can't imagine for a minute that Professor Slughorn would appreciate you rummaging about in his cupboards. In fact I believe that he would be so unimpressed by the discovery, that he would have no choice but to inform the headmaster of your actions."_

_"Not if I obliterate your memory first." Sneering openly this time, he didn't bother to mention the fact that neither of them would learn about such spells until at least their fifth year. Let alone be able to caste them with any credibility._

_He watched quite satisfactorily, as the recognition of the same exact thought slowly crossed her features._

_Finding himself suddenly quite amused at the whole situation, he took a moment to study the girl before him. She was a pretty little thing with the perfect oval face, the greenest of eyes and waves of jet black hair. Which at present looked slightly dishevelled, no doubt; as his grasp of the whole fiasco deepen, was the result of what he had heard to be the unmistakable sound of her falling. What's more as a crystallized clinking sounded from her beneath her robes; as she began to fidget uncomfortably, he realized he might actually know her name. He had certainly remembered seeing her about the castle, usually in the library or in the grounds. In fact she appeared to have a particular fondness for the areas surrounding the lake. He could recall seeing her near there, usually accompanied by a group of giggling friends. Perhaps that was where he had overheard her name from?_

_"Or I could hex you into silence." He couldn't help but admire her determination. Naturally if their roles had been reversed, he would have considered doing the same. But as they were not...Well, why not have some fun with it?_

_"You could I suppose." Feigning a profound contemplation of such an idea. "But it would only be a matter of time before I would regain my ability to speak. And well, surely you would understand that I would have an insatiable and undisputable need for revenge."_

_"Is that a threat Malfoy?" She challenged, taking on a duelling pose._

_He was quite taken aback that she actually knew his name, though why she would not, would have been more startling._

_"Merely a statement of fact." He replied, while regaining some of his composure. "You would, no doubt take on a similar method of retribution yourself. And the only sure way of obtaining that, would of course be to tell on the assailant at ones earliest ability to do so."_

_"Do you not think then, it is perhaps best that we both agree to forget about this unfortunate encounter?" How dare she think she could preposition him? Though the thought did not come as bitterly as he would have liked._

_"I could be persuaded...perhaps." Diminishing the glimmer of hope he had caught just behind her eyes. "That is, if you made it worth my while."_

_"I will not be bullied." She really was very attractive, especially when pissed._

_"It's only fair. After all you are undoubtedly getting the better of this. Surely being spared expulsion is paramount to any repayment that I ask for."_

_He allowed a few minutes for her to weigh the fall out of that, against his solution. And was pleased to see resignation on her face._

_"And what exactly would a Slytherin want from a Gryffindor?" The anger in her voice, the defiance and pride that shone in her eyes at mention of her house name, was electrifying. She was quite a remarkable girl._

_Caught up in the moment, he heard himself say. "A kiss..." The remark was followed by the most profound of silences, as the shock on her face was no doubt mirrored upon his own. All each could do was stand there, staring dumbly at one another._

_'Where the hell had that come from?' Lucius thought desperately._

_He had merely thought to have her as his dog body, performing impossible tasks that would humiliate her no end. Not this! What was thinking?_

_"What?" She struggled with surprise._

_Not wanting to lose face, he pretended indifference. "You heard!" Loosening his shoulders slightly as he coughed, for he had sounded remarkably high pitched just then._

_"Never!" Horror contended with firmness._

_"It is your decision. But sooner or later Professor Slughorn will realize someone has been stealing from his storeroom. You have until then to decide if my offer is the more desirable outcome to your thieving." And without fear of attack or finality to his question he turned and walked off, leaving her gasping in aspiration._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Present need**

"Forgive my frankness, but I fear the reason you are here."

The room was small and sparsely furnished but tidy. With two people; even seated as they were, it was a little cramped but the fire blazing in the hearth bathed all in a feel of homely comfort, as the warm colours danced along the walls.

"I have to admit, I wish I were here under better circumstances." Albus replied solemnly.

"Then we would not be keeping with current times. The theme of late being that of the dark and disturbing. Why change what is?"

Dumbledore nodded glumly; wanting to smile at her bleak attempt at humour, but his next words were not of the flippant kind. "I'm afraid you're right, but we must remember also that there is the need for light, that there are those in which are fighting for its splendour. You once were apart of those ranks."

"So soon to the point Albus? I had thought you would at least try to soften me up before landing the blow."

He allowed his humour to show this time by admitting a small, yet hearty chuckle at such a bland remark. "Then I would be doing you a great injustice my dear, for you knew why I had come the second I walked through the door."

"Perhaps." Full lips parting in a smile of her own. "But you could have humoured me at the least." The smile turned to a small put upon pout, before she began sipping lightly at the tea she had kindly prepared upon his arrival.

"Well?" Albus sighed gravely as he folded his arms in his lap, an expression of concern gracing his aged features.

"You know why I left?" She asked sombrely; gently replacing the cup to its saucer, as her eyes flashed with the pained light of memory.

Albus nodded slowly, unsure of how much he was truly supposed to know. He knew enough, more then he thought she realized he did. But that was better left unsaid. "Then you must understand why I can't return with you." She continued.

"At Hogwarts you will be safe. At Hogwarts he'll find it very hard to touch you."

An eyebrow raised in surprise, as her words came as nothing more than a whispered gasp. "No promises of utter protection Albus? Have things really progressed so badly?"

"Voldermort's powers are increasing." Dumbledore replied matter of factly. "He is gaining strength as well as followers with each passing day and we are thinly stretched to match him."

"Then I cannot see how my return will be of any assistance to you." She pleaded. "If anything I will be nothing more than a hindrance."

He leaned forward suddenly, hoping to impart on her the sheer ferocity of his next words. "There are some things that are more important, some things that are worth the risk." He knew that was unfair. She was by no means a coward, but he had deliberately made his words hard in the hope of rousing her. He needed her and would not relent until he had her acquiescence.

As hoped for a flash of anger ignited her eyes; a roaring fire of emerald flames, as she bounding from the chair.

"And what of the Hunter that you so lightly disregard?" She roared. She was an attractive woman, more than enough to make many a heart flutter yet right now; in all her raging fury, she was a fearsome thing to behold. "He still pursues me, ghosting my every step, mirroring my every move." Quick angered steps followed as she began pacing the room.

For a few minutes Dumbledore lost himself in the soft rhythmic swish of her robes, the silken _Swiss, Swiss_ catching him up, before forcing himself to address the matter at hand.

"Nihal." Her name; spoken as though the word were a caress, jarred her person and stiffen her back. Yet stubbornness prevented her from turning to him. "How long since the last time you encountered him?"

"Six months." She whispered softly as her steps carried her to the dusty window.

"And how many months more before you do so again, if months you are lucky enough to have? If I can find you, then so will he."

"Is this supposed to convince me to come with you?"

"And what about Harry?"

"I promised Lilly I would keep him safe, the only way I can do that is by staying away from him. If anything Harry certifies things."

"And what about his parent's sacrifice?"

A light misty haze slowly covered the window pane as Nihal let out a resigned breath. "I have not forgotten the fight Albus." Utter exhaustion held her in its grip, crippling her person and lacing her words.

"Then what better way to revenge their memory, then by returning to it." He watched in sympathy as her entire body slumped dejectedly. "You forget one thing Nihal." He rose slowly, making his way carefully towards the dishearten woman. "This war will come to you, to all of us whether we wish it or not." Standing just behind her he could make out her image in the window pane. The dabble colours of the fading street lamp bathing her reflection in an eerie gloom. "But at Hogwarts you won't have to face it alone." He told it. "At Hogwarts you'll be amongst friends. I cannot protect you from your past, but I can help you face it. We need you Nihal." Sharing in her heartache he watched in total distain, her eyes close in weary resignation.

He had got what he wanted, but he feared at what price.

* * *

He sought her. He sought her with a desperation not satified, a thirst not yet quenched. Through Italy and the plains of Africa. Through Libya and the baking sun of Spain. Through Norway, Finland, Austria and Germany. But all had ended; for now, in vain.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_**_ I have to admit that this chapter gave me a headache. I had originally written another version of this, but at the last minute I decided to change it as I wasn't completely happy with it. As a result I am hoping that the decision to change it was worth it, and that you all enjoy it._

_Thought I should also state (to avoid confusion) that events which occur in the Potter series, have been alter slightly inorder to fit better with my plot line._

_Feedback is always greatly welcomed, especially considering the throbbing pain in my temples, that I still have as a result of writing this._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Home is where the heart is? **

The Dursleys hated all things magical, not to mention anything to do with Harry Potter. So all in all, Harry would not have rated himself particularly high on their respectability list. He guessed certain occurrences like blowing up his aunt, daring midnight absconding in a flying Ford Anglia and a levitating pudding zooming across the kitchen, might possibly have contributed towards such an attitude. But none of it was really his fault! He may have been an unwilling participator; for the most part, and an unknowing instigator to such things. But it was hardly fair to just blame him.

So he figured that it was pretty well safe to say, that the Dursley's opinions, would not be changing any time soon. It did have the unfortunate effect of making his summer holiday an unbearably long, drawn out and miserable experience. And though it sounded like a tragically, pathetic exaggeration, it was actually spectacularly true.

While they were not trying to starve him out of existence. (Dudley's; which of course meant everyone else's, new forced upon diet). They were trying to finish him off through that age old worn out ploy of death by boredom. Constantly barring him from anything of interest, and forcing him to wander aimlessly in the streets to avoid the constant frowning, growling and the grinding of teeth whenever he was in the same room as any of them.

It was not as if he had any choice in the matter. If Harry had his way, he would have chosen to stay at Hogwarts. Even though, his fourth year had ended rather tragically. He had not yet quite gotten over the shock of losing Diggory, and to be honest Harry wondered if he ever would. But despite this, Hogwarts was his home.

Unfortunately it was still the summer. And though for anyone else it would have been a cause of celebration, for Harry it was dire. His one saving grace however, came in the ginger headed form of his best friend Ron's family, the Weasleys.

He longed for the time when he would be back amongst them and once more delighting in Mrs. Weasleys excellent cooking and in less than an hour's time, he would be doing just that.

As he sat staring listlessly out his bedroom window, he began to wonder what method of transportation he would be using this time. Previous exertions to The Burrow had proven various in their strangeness, so he couldn't help but dwell on the prospect without an ounce of trepidation. He knew the Dursleys couldn't handle anymore weirdness; thanks to pervious exertions, so the matter did create for one of giddy expectation. Which when sat as he was at his desk; that fitted rather snugly in his cramped little bedroom, had him vaulting out of his chair to pace rather manically in anticipation.

The minutes soon began to tick down as the sky outside turned steadily blacker. At eleven o'clock this very night, he would once again be waving goodbye to muggle life. With this comforting thought circulating his mind, Harry plunked himself back on to his chair and turned an avid gaze upon his alarm clock, feeling as he did his stomach flutter as the clock face showed there were only seconds left to go.

_'Five, four.'_ Harry began counting down in his head. "_Three, two...One._"

Eleven O'clock.

The wind still blew solemnly against the window pane; Hedwig still screeched her protests of being confide in her cage and nothing remotely out of the norm happen.

With a look of utter indignation on his face, Harry turned to Hedwig. "Where are...?" _BANG_!

A deafening sound shattered the silence outside. The sudden and unexpectedness of it nearly knocking Harry clean off his seat, forcing him to grab at his desk before he lost his balance completely. Quickly straightening himself, he made for the window, upturning his chair in his eagerness. Pressing his nose flat against the cold glass he suddenly smiled in rapture, for their under the orange gleam of the street lamps was none other than the knight Bus. Three floors tall and a garish purple it stood glaringly out of sorts admits the stridently clean streets of Privet Drive. For a moment panic gripped him but as he squashed his face against the window pane, he soon realized that his anxiety was unnecessary. For within every house the artificial blue glow of television sets or the blacken windows of sleeping individuals, did not for once twitch with the curious stares of nosey neighbours.

Chuckling to himself Harry quickly gathered up his belongings. He had; for once, packed that very morning, shortly after the delivery owl had arrived with the letter that now lay crumpled upon his desk, crudely covered in his best friend Ron's writing, inviting him to spend rest of the holidays at his home at The Burrow.

Once certain that he had gathered everything; which included a few forgotten spell books and some last minute gathering of extra underwear, he grabbed Hedwig's cage and flew to the bedroom door.

Running out of his bedroom at full pelt; or as quickly as one could with a trunk full of school provisions and a screeching owl in tow, he rushed down the stairs and headed for the front door.

Unfortunately his over zealousness did make for a rather noisy procession as; for each pounding step he took, a resounding _BOOM_ followed as his trunk ricocheted behind him. The resulting racket bringing with it the stern and slightly hassled faces of the Dursleys. Bustling out of the living room, three sets of eyes glared at him. The doubled chinned; no necked and beat root red faced squint of Vernon Dursley, the equally chubby and whale like physic of Dudley and the bony, horse faced stare of his aunt Petunia.

"What the heck is all that racket about boy?" Upon which spotting Harry's school trunk, uncle Vernon quickly amended the answer with. "Them freaks come for you then?"  
Glaring in response Harry grunted his reply, then without a word of goodbye from either party he simply left. As he dashed outside Harry thought he ought to have at least a small tinge of remorse that he would once again be leaving them for the best part of a year. Or some sort of show of regret that their time together was anything but loving. But instead found that he really didn't care. So shrugging of these disheartening contemplations, he eagerly made his way along Magnolia Crescent and headed into Magnolia Road.

It was a cool evening that greeted him. Not that unusual when considering the natural fluctuations of the British's weather; that did tend to favour the habit of producing all four seasons in one day. Yet all the same, the slight chill that settled upon his person did leave him with a sense of unashamed dread.

Now that Lord Voldermort's return was finally out, every darken building he passed looked sinister. Every stir of wind seemed inclined to breath Harry's name. The frequented and well acquainted sights of Little Whinging now appeared harsh and disturbing in the converted moonlight, that even the short walk to the knight bus seemed fraught with peril.

_'It's all in your mind.' _Harry told himself diligently, as his heart pounded within his chest._ 'Nothing is going to attack you here.'_ Though images of an enormous pale eyed, jet black dog and an over enthusiastic house elf, did roam the recesses of his mind. They may have turned out to be good and on his side, but that was beside the point right now. Especially when he was fighting against his body's in-determined urge, to either shiver or sweat in fright.

So with steps noticeably quickening, Harry ran the remaining few yards.

As he finally drew level with the vibrant bus, by which point he was panting enough that he practically keeled over with exhaustion. He realized just how unaware and ignorant muggles really were of the magical world. The fact that a three tiered bus stood in the middle of the street without a single resident noticing, was truly amazing.

Clutching at an agonizingly huge stitch in his side, Harry sucked in the air as an all too familiar voice greeted him.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wiz..."

"Yeah, yeah I know." Harry interrupted, while desperately trying to control his breathing.

"What you panting for, you been runnin' from somethin'?" Was the squinty eyed response of the ever inquisitive Stan Shunpike, the knight bus' very own pimply conductor. Who upon catching sight of Harry's dishevelled and utterly exhausted demeanour craned his neck in; judging by the light that danced within his eyes, a rather excited manner.

"I'm not running from anything." Slightly perturbed by Stan's eagerness.

"Choo run for then?" Stan persisted while he strained his neck further, his gaze sweeping back and forth over the deathly silent street.

"Didn't want to miss the bus." Harry invented, all the while frowning in annoyance as Stan continued his vigil. He wasn't about to admit that he had been scared.

"No chance of that Harry." Harry's face split into an enormous smile, as Mr. Weasley's sturdy frame pushed passed the annoying conductor. "Molly would kill me if I turned up without you."

Laughing for the first time in what felt like weeks, Harry turned to rummaged within his trunk. If he remembered correctly it was eleven Stickles for the privilege to ride on the Knight Bus. So as quickly as he could, he extracted his money bag, fished out the silver coins and shoved them into Stan's hand; which had the satisfying affect of snapping him out of his retrieve, before finally climbing aboard.

Smiling at Ernie Prang; the thick bespectacled elderly wizard who drove the bus, Harry with Mr. Weasley's help struggled to move his luggage to the back. As the impossible feat was finally reach, Harry began to realize that he recognized several faces as he passed.

"Wotcha Harry." Was the somewhat forlorn greeting by the strangely dull haired complexion of Tonks.

"Hello Harry." This from the unfortunately scruffy appearance of his friend Remus Lupin. Who; judging by his rather diminished state, must have been suffering terribly as a result of the numerous restrictions that the ministry were enforcing every day. The strain of which; including the lack of work for magical beast, was clearly beginning to have an effect on poor Lupin, who despite his weary state offered Harry a hearty smile.

And of course there was no mistaking the grizzled looking, mismatched eyed appearance of ex aura Mad-Eye Moody, who growled out his interpretation of a welcome. "About time."

Not wanting to make a point that it was in fact they who were late, Harry instead sat himself on one of the many randomly assorted chairs that the Knight bus offered. Gripping tight to Hedwig's cage as it rested on his knees. He remembered only too well, that the Knight Bus tended to _jostle_ people about somewhat.

"What are you all doing here?" Harry decided was perhaps the better option to take.

"Can't let a lad like you wonder about unprotected, be killed in a heartbeat by some mad loon wanting to prove his worth." Moody barked back.

Harry rather resented that. Casting a somewhat solemn looked at his escort, Harry mentally fumed inside. Hadn't he proven to them that he was capable of looking after himself. Shouldn't his numerous encounters with Voldermort, and the fact that he was still alive mean anything at all?

"Why the knight bus Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked with an obvious strain to his voice. "Wouldn't floo power or broomsticks have been quicker?"

"Quicker yes Harry but not as safe." Mr. Weasley agreed as he settled himself next to Harry with a relived sigh. "We have reason to believe the floo network is being monitored and as for broomsticks, well let's just say with everything that has been going on lately a more quainter method of transportation would be more prudent."

"Safer too." Mad-Eye broke in. "They wouldn't be expecting it." Nodding in a rather satisfied sort of way.  
"Why would the Ministry be bothering, I mean now that Voldermort is active, surely they have better things to be doing?"

A look pasted between Mr. Weasley and Lupin so quickly, that if he hadn't have been watching them both intently he would have missed it. As it was, Mr. Weasley hesitated slightly before responding.  
"Well, well it may not necessarily be just the Ministry that are watching Harry. Now that _certain_ _things_ have been voiced, there has been upheaval and chaos everywhere. No one knows who to trust anymore."

"We can't be sure about who maybe controlling things." Lupin added gravely. "It's best not to place ourselves in unnecessary danger Harry, at least not until we are sure the risk is worth it. And with Dumbledore away at the moment."

"Dumbledore's gone? Where?" Harry broke in astounded.

"We're not entirely sure." Lupin replied with a frown. "But I'm sure he'll be back in time for the trial."

"Trial? Who's...?"

"Enough talk." Mad-Eye growled as his magical eye whizzed in the direction of Stan, who was poorly trying to carry off a rather pathetic interpretation of a sly look at their party.

With a host of eyes suddenly turned upon him; and none too friendly in appearance, Stan; not surprisingly, quickly realized that he had been caught out. So clearing in throat fussily, he turned somewhat reluctantly to Ernie and gave his infamous command.

"Take 'er away, Erin."

Then with a tremendous _BANG_, the Knight Bus sped into life.

* * *

The light from the fireplace fell across the room, creating an odd mixture of grotesque forms and strange shadows. It was enough to inspire fear in the best of people. But this was his home after all, and here he should _not_ have been afaired.

Yet he was.

With a sickening feeling of both suspense and fear churning his stomach, Lucius approached the fireplace with a host of trepidation. There seemed a strange stillness over everything, an atmosphere of sorts that suffocated all who entered it. And it appeared to radiate from one source.

It was no secret that the Dark Lord was displeased, considering his failed attempt to kill the Potter boy last year. But how was he, Lucius to be held accountable for it?

He chanced a glance over at Narcissa; who upon entering had retreated to a corner, and now stood almost hidden admits the gloom of the room. Where upon which, he received a heartening look of tenderness and admiration. It was a small gesture, a simple act of encouragement but it was enough to lend him the strength needed to complete the remaining distance.

He finally drew level with the fireplace, choosing to stand to one side, though a little behind the figure before it; it was an unconscious act of subservience but one in which he fell into automatically. Placing himself at the disposition of the other, Lucius stood with lowered head and respectful eyes before speaking.

"You sent for me my Lord?" Nothing. No reply, no hint of acknowledgement. "My... My lord?"

Still nothing. He opened his mouth to push the matter, but movement at the edge of his prolific vision stopped him. Narcissa's elegant frame shimmered in the half light, as she vigorously shook her head. So taking the hint he waited.

They simply stood there, the time seeming to stretch endlessly as Lucius waited for a response. The crackling of the embers steadily seeped into the quite. Their warm colours and pleasant sounds were beautiful; sensual infact, and so poignantly out of place against the pressing feel of the room, that it was actually creepy.

"You will not disappoint me again Lucius?" The Dark Lord suddenly replied.

"N...no my lord." Stumbling a little over the unexpectedness of the question.

"There is a _means_ in which you can redeem yourself." The Dark Lord turned then. So slowly, it was as if he intended to impress upon the moment. "A way in which you can help make this right." A manic fury flared in his eyes.

It was an almost graceful gesture of his hand, which made Lucius draw back suddenly. The pasty pale, bone white sharp tips that reached out to touch him.

He could barely repress a shudder; how could he not, for a few seconds he had thought the hands; that now stroked his head in comfort, had been about to reach out and tear at his throat. Anything was possible with the Dark Lord. But debase savagery?

"I serve you devotedly my lord." Lucius finally managed to stammer out. A horrible feeling of nausea washed over him. A sense of utter dread and relief so profound that he knew he had failed to conceal his distress. The grim sort of a smile that the Dark Lord offered him, was evidence enough of that.

"I am relying on you Lucius. It has to be a performance worthy of applause. They need to believe you. I'm putting all my faith into you. You will not disappoint me?"

Lucius bowed his head in acceptance.

This was his home after all, and here he should _not_ have been afaired.

Yet he was.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** I just want to say thank you to my first reviewer, the first person to save my fic as a favourite and my first followers. Tatiana K, Linnie31 and Sevsnape4ever. Big thank you! It is always uplifting knowing that someone out there likes your work. It was a particularly inspiring and a motivating incentive for me as at the moment things have been particularly hard at home as my granddad is very sick. _

_I hope you don't mind the acknowledgement and thank you all again. x_**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Trials and tribulations **

Courtroom ten was a dungeon of a room. Made of a dark stone, its immense walls seemed inclined to drink the dim light that the sparse splattering of torches threw off. They appeared like a pale gleam in the far corners, reflecting the light and accentuating the vast cavernous feel of the room.

It was difficult not to fidget; considering the melancholy atmosphere, yet some how Narcissa fought against her body's urge to do so.

_"They must be kept in ignorance and deception." _The Dark Lord's words sonorously rose out of the depth of memory. _"It has to be a performance worthy of applause."_

She needed to keep a cool exterior and fidgeting about; like some errant teenager, would hardly aid in the conveyance of beguilement.

A scattering of plum-coloured robes amongst an array of black; each embroidered with a silver W of the Wizengamot, shimmered dully in the murky light, as their owners conversed in a low rumbling hum. They were a pale, dusky blush hue amongst the gloom of the chamber and did nothing to ease the nerves that Narcissa was feeling. Changes had been made in their line-up; Fudge's influence and preference of course, but they were the audience to impress.

"It is unfortunate that matters have come to this." The Minister's voice echoed morosely about the room. "But the correct procedures must be followed. I hope you understand Lucius?" Regret laced his words as distressed furrowed his aged brow.

"Of course." Weary resignation appeared to cripple her husband's strong frame but Narcissa's skilled and well acquainted eyes, could detect the small smug smile that tugged at Lucius's lips.

Since the Potter boy's incriminating interview in that ridiculous excuse of a tabloid; The Quibbler, small-scale and frankly lack luster attempts had been made to determine the real facts concerning the Dark Lord's rising. Potentially problematic; considering the out come at the Triwizard tournament and recent disappearances, yet so far none had been a cause for real panic. It was the seemingly non-existent goings on of a _particular_ wizard, that teased at the real danger.

The Dark Lord was no fool, he knew however furtive Dumbledore pretended to be, he would be working strenuously behind the scenes to bring him down. As such, the Dark Lord was most insistent that a worthy display of_ righteous_ _justice_ had to happen. He realised that denials; however abundant, would not silence all into submission.

Fudge was stridently opposed to the idea, feeling that such accusations were trumped up and insulting. He had not been in favour of bringing the matter to trial; owing no doubt, to the fortunate benefit of not having the _gentle_ persuasions of the Dark Lord at his ear. However Cornelius was easily manipulated and the matter was soon ratified. And so Narcissa found herself in the perplexing situation, where she was actually encouraging the possible ruination of her husband, for the _greater good_ of the Dark Lord's cause of course. Not that she was overally concerned; not really, but with the presence of a certain someone, she couldn't help but be a little anxious.

The man in question sat a few seats down from her, a stoic expression adorning his face as he sat silently observing. Even with a host of darken and pale shades of space that intervened between them, could not diminish the intimidating aura that Albus Dumbledore gave off.

"Shell we proceed? I have better things to be doing today."

The resentment that filled Fudge's voice, was the most harsh Narcissa had ever heard from the portly man. He really was oblivious to Lucius's dark nature, as such truly believed; thanks to honeyed words and generous donations, that he and Lucius were good friends. A beneficial misinterpretation for their part.

"The court has been brought into session for the disciplinary hearing of the 12th of August, for the alleged offences committed by Mr Lucius Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor Wiltshire. Interrogators Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Ignatius David Forsyte. The stated allegations are of those for the accused of being a Death Eater. Instigator of said claim Mr Harry James Potter, resident of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." His entire posture bunched up; like that of a clenched fist, becoming more contracted as he read further through the parchment. It was clear he detested being here, feeling this to be nothing more than a waste of time. "Allegations I might add, presented to us in the form of a much publicised interview, that appeared this summer within the Quibbler. A method in which I believe displays the most grosses of acts, calculative of discrediting a wizard's good name." The sigh that followed may well have been heard in the offices above, for the exaggerated effort that Fudge lent to it. "Do you deny these allegations Lucius?" It could only be described as supplication, the way in which he addressed her husband with such a bowed and lowered head.

"Yes of course. I must profess astonishment, that such insinuations have been made against me." His stance in turn becoming lame with angry defiance.

"As am I." The Minister replied vehemently. "As reputations goes, yours is considered one of the most generous and consistent." From his seat in the centre of the courtroom, Lucius peered up at the Minister with an abashed, awkward demeanour. "What's more, I can safely say that I have the agreement of all present. That both the work and in the support in which you have given to the Ministry over the years, far exceeds that of any human good will." At which point Fudge cast his gaze about, as if in the act of rallying support.

Narcissa's eyes too ran quickly over the Wizengamot, staring with a haughty contempt as she welcomed the sea of nobs that rippled about her. Until inevitably her attention was drawn to Dumbledore. Who; now appearing to have lost all interest in the run of events, seemed completely immersed in a conversation with a witch, with whom the dull leaded light of the court failed to illuminate satisfactorily.

"In hindsight, let us not forget that as we are considering reputations, The Quibbler can hardly be called a reputable magazine. That as practice, it will often invent the most bizarre in order to retain its _unique _qualities." A low hum of laughter met these words, as Fudge puffed out his chest in a display of pompous loathing. "I believe that one such article involved the lunatic theory, that Sirius Black was actually the reclusive rock star Stubby Boardman! I need not say any more on the reliability of the_ facts _that appear within this magazine."

As the rest of the room succumbed to laughter Narcissa; not amused in the slightest, watched the crippling chorus of gaiety with an air of patronizing superiority. Even Lucius was allowing his mirth to show! It was pathetic. How stupid could they be? And these were the people who were effectively running the wizarding community.

She sighed heavily. It was lucky they were so gullible she supposed, it certainly made their task easier. But!

While the court were engaged in their gaieties, Narcissa's attention was suddenly attracted by the somberly impressive silence of Dumbledore and the witch beside him. Sat far back into the second row as they were, their lack of amusement was only too palpable. Clenching her teeth in annoyance, Narcissa was determined not to notice them anymore; these sanctimonious little acts of intimidation of theirs, would not work. Did Dumbledore really think he could affect this trial?

In the background Cornelius whittled on but she was hardly listening, catching only the odd word, like. "Unfounded animosity." "Draco." And "Hogwarts." For at that precise moment the witch sitting to the right of Dumbledore, with her face still in shadow, had moved forward suddenly. Leaning close she began whispering into his ear. He glanced back at her once; frowning, before inclining his head in a little bow.

Narcissa's eyes widen momentarily, as she felt a horrible sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something about that whole exchange was very odd.

_The witch sitting to the right of Dumbledore, with her face in shadow, had moved forwards suddenly. Leaning close she began whispering into..._

She stared at the aged wizard, willing him to give her some clue.

_Had moved forwards suddenly_...

She watched almost hypnotised, the play of light that dance about Dumbledore's face; capturing the fine lines that etched out a story of obtained years and wisdom.

_Leaning close she..._

And then it hit her. The light!

* * *

"...was actually the reclusive rock star Stubby Boardman! I need not say any more on the reliability of the_ facts _that appear within this magazine." Lucius snorted derisively as he shook his head in reproach.

_'Fools!' _

It should have been disconcerting, the lack of intelligence going around. Should have been unsettling that the might of the Ministry, could display such an aptitude towards being manipulated. Add that to a setting dominated by deep shadows and low lighting and this feeling of utter contentment, really did stand at odds.

The transformation of Fudge was quite astonishing and Lucius was proud to say, that he had a hand in it. The eradication of the influential from office; such as Amelia Bones, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, was a particular favourite of his. Quite a turn around from the man who had inserted the vaguely amusing inefficiency of office. The Fudge of old was totally unrecognisable, in his place sat now a malicious man who delighted in his own self-serving corruption.

"You must forgive my candid approach." Said Fudge, still smirking as he offered a half-hearted attempt at an apology. "But I find these accusations most insulting and ludicrous." Lucius would forgive him anything, so long as it stuck with the expectations that the Dark Lord had for today's proceedings. "We should take into consideration that such claims, may well be deprived from Harry's unfounded animosity he appears to harbour towards Lucius's son Draco. I have in fact acquired statements." Extricating a piece of parchment from the midst of the pile before him. "From Hogwarts students; Vincent Crabbe and one Gregory Goyle, that confirm Harry blatantly flaunts his hatred of the young Mr Malfoy at Hogwarts for all to see."

Family loyalty was a valued philosophy that Lucius had enforced early on in Draco's life. Whether a family thrives or withers, wasn't just determined by the head alone, all played their part. The solution? Gain complete control! That was the best strategy. Loyalty to your family was a concept that far exceeded simple bonds of blood. He was proud of Draco for remembering that.

A powerful emotion had risen in Lucius, an invigorating, strengthening feeling that only thoughts of his noble lineage had ever been able to impart. He wanted to catch Narcissa's eyes, wanted her to share in his delight of what was undoubtedly the irreversible ramifications of their scheme unfolding, but she was not looking his way; instead she had turned her attention towards the benches, towards a particular person in which his numerous informants had explicitly stated had left the country. Yet in fact sat; with an expression of polite interest, but a few seats away.

Far back into the second row, the antiquated wizard bowed his head as a witch; whose face seemed completely immersed in shadow, whispered something into his ear.

Lucius frowned up at the pair. What was Dumbledore up to? It was almost unprecedented, a hearing in which he remained completely silent.

"Let us not forget." Said Fudge, diverting Lucius's attention. "That the other _alleged_ Death Eaters identified, are those in which have been previously cleared by the Wizengamot." He continued, glaring all the while at Dumbledore from over the top of the parchment. "How could the boy possibly acquire those specific names? Well it is only too easy if someone is _particularly _well acquainted." The lines around Dumbledore's mouth tightened slightly, though he gave no other sign that he had been offended by what had come dangerously close to naming him as the instigator of such.

The members of the Wizengamot were all muttering, no doubt in awed surprised at Fudge's boldness. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. Some looked shocked, others slightly frightened; but the general consensus seemed to support the Minister's words.

Lucius sneered openly as he watched Dumbledore's obvious displeasure. Who would have thought? Fudge the _turn coat_, blatantly attempting to rally support _against_ his once friend and all but mentor? It was the type of poetic justice that Lucius; even a few days ago, would never have thought possible.

Dumbledore cleared his throat sharply. The Wizengamot instantly fell silent. The witch next to the muggle loving fool began to fidget, once again drawing Lucius's attention.

He swallowed hard, his heart suddenly racing as the longer he stared at her the more he felt himself begin to shift uncomfortably.

"As we have neither a _reliable_ witnesses, or a _credible_ account against your person. I can therefore only naturally assume that such statements against you are biased." Said Fudge loftily, though his words this time were no longer enough of a distraction. "What's more a vicious attempt to disgrace your good character."

Lucius scrunched up his eyes, squinting imploringly, desperate to unearth any telling feature, but the shadow held fast around her face.

"You have presented to the Wizengamot an adequate account as to your whereabouts on the night of the tragic death of Cedric Diggory. And can be accountable for by many witnesses as to the plausibility towards such. I have right here before me." The Minister boomed, as he brandished a stack of parchments. "The testimonies of several people, who can swear to having seen Mr Malfoy at the Ministry during the time of the Triwizard event. Furthermore, stated witnesses can atone for his presence throughout the entire duration of the final task."

There was something oddly familiar about that witch; the posture, the cut of her robes, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But why? Who was she? One possible explanation flirted at the recesses of understanding but he may as well have grasped at smoke, for all the success he was having at recalling it.

"Yes." Said Fudge, shuffling his notes. "All satisfactory. Then if I am to have the agreement of all presence?" Some of the witches and wizards around him nodded "Then with all things considered and with the exemplary collection of supporting testimonies, there can only be one final route left for us to take. Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges."

Lucius's head jerked around. There were hands in the air, many of them, at least the entire court. Breathing fast, he tried to steady his nerves. He had to remember why he was he. He could not afford to be distracted, even if the witch had put him on edge.

"Those against." Dumbledore raised his hand; so did the witch on his right. The Minister glanced around at them looking like the herald of a triumphant procession. "Excellent!" He beamed smugly. "Cleared of all charges."

Dumbledore stood up, surprising Lucius with his quickness before making his way down the stone steps. His mysterious veiled companion however, remained seated.

A surge of wizards and witches were getting to their feet. A beaming Fudge had gathered up a fawning Umbridge; sparing Lucius only time enough for an indulgent smile before the pair made their hasty retreat, each congratulating the other on their unparalleled success. While all around he could hear the sound of echoed footsteps.

And through the chaos of it all, he could feel _her_ eyes upon him.

* * *

Dumbledore's abrupt flight took Narcissa completely by surprise. So much so that she remained sitting where she was, struggling with her feelings of both shock and relief. The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking and gathering in small groups. They had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations; no doubt they had expected the hearing to last longer. Lucius had not really said much, Fudge had done all the work. Perhaps they; like she, had expected Dumbledore to make some sort of impression.

Feeling rather shaken, Narcissa looked across at the rapidly emptying benches and discovered to her dismay that the witch was still seated and was now; from the direction of her head, gazing down at Lucius with a hatred that her veiled face failed to mask.

Narcissa felt winded, as though she had just walked into something solid; she could feel her stomach lurch threateningly as she eyed the witch closely. Her heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under her ribs as she cast a frightened look from Lucius to the witch and back again.

There was only one woman who could make her feel like this. One woman who could cause that agitated look on her husband's face. Only one woman who would have cause to hide her face so.

A woman she had desperately hoped was dead.

* * *

Dumbledore stopped near the heavy iron door, his hand outstretched towards its handle before he turned; eyes staring imploringly towards his wayward companion. She seemed to sense his intensity as; with no words spoken, she instantly sprang to her feet briskly gliding down the stone benches to quickly draw level. Upon which received a chastising look from the wizard before her.

It was a large dungeon, dimly lit and encompassed by walls of dark stone. Though poor, the lightening was reasonable sufficient; impossibly however as Lucius watched as his pale face slackened, it's dulled, deaden splendour failed to penetrate even an inch of the shadow that clung around her face.

He swallowed hard as panic gripped him. A sudden overwhelming feeling of fear surged, a heart stopping contraction of depression bloomed. It was irrational yet for some reason he feared the witch leaving.

Just as they made it through the dungeon door, Narcissa screamed. It jarred Lucius rigid. He had not realised that he had moved, let alone with his arm outstretched as though in the attempt to stop them. As the shock began to ebb away, he realised that the scream; which had at first seemed to scorch his ears with urgency, had in fact barely been a shout. The occupants were still filing out in a manner of stilted animation, the drone of whispered conversations continued on in an unbroken chord. Here he stood, still at the centre of it all.

"Lucius?" The false scream pleaded once more. "Lets go."

His answering nod was barely movement. He felt stunned as comprehension dawned raw and sudden. He knew who the witch was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The hunted**

Paris.

Splayed, clawed tipped feet touched down as La Ville-Lumière (The City of Light), for the most part lay sleeping.

There was no sound; expect for the distant hum of traffic, as the creature crouched in a narrow alley that ended abruptly at the back of a cluster of shops. The shadows of the buildings around, casting many strange forms, in which he was careful to stay tightly within.

He relished the night and the emotions it imbued, his form blending so naturally with the darkness that he would appear as nothing more than one of its many fanciful creations. Should he have the misfortune of being seen, the threatening figures of shadowy shapes and the imaginative monsters and giants it falsely conjured, would allow for him to pass virtually unnoticed. Never the less, he could not afford to be complacent, for the sky's inky blackness was rapidly losing its edge. Day was fast approaching.

His journey here had not been an easy one. Arduously he had had to drag himself across many cities in his epic search, as the darker, agonizing aspects of his cursed cravings raged on. Forced to roam at the edges of social order, had made his quest an unbearably long one but no more. As here, beneath the vaulting gothic arches and acclaimed _Parisian_ taste, he had finally found her. He smiled enthusiastically to himself at the thought. She had been like a phantom, always eluding his reach and forcing the chase, but _miraculously_ for the first time, she had faltered.

Now all he had to do was wait.

Seconds ticked by and then minutes as his impatience began to grow, yet all the while he could sense his IT coming closer. IT was the _most_ effective part of him, the part in which amplified his reputation of being a Hunter, lending credibility to that name. IT could pass through walls and any impeding objects with ease. IT was the reasons that made him a feared, yet priced rarity amongst his own kind, and it would be his IT, that would finally allow him to capture her.

An age seemed to pass as he stood there still and silent. Listening for any sound of IT's approach; despite knowing full well there would be none. Until at last, deep within the base of his groin, he began to tingle with expectation.

Without warning, a howling wind roared down the length of the alley, where moments ago it had been nothing more than a light breeze. The lights from the distant street lamps began to flicker ominously, threatening to go out and there; without sound or viewable approach, stood IT.

It was like a ghost; all menacing and black, caught between the half light of the vibrant city behind, and the half shadow of the desolate alleyway ahead. It stood there, motionless, as though rooted to the cobble stones. Appearing to possess neither movement, nor thought, nor breath. As the wind that dislodged bin lids and lashed at the creature awaiting it, failed to touch even an inch of his IT.

Then it moved.

Without preamble and as sudden as a whip lash, IT fell to the floor, where with a sickening swiftness oozed across the pavement like liquid given flesh, to be lost amongst the retreating shadows until; with an alarming turn of speed, it reared up before him, doubling in height then easily out-stripping that of his own. This was his distorted silhouette, an immaterial entity, the disembodied spirit. His soul if you will. Whatever the preferred name, IT was his _'Internal Tracker'_, returning now to resume their oneness and to relay back what had been found.

The air around seemed filled with excited anticipation, so palpable that it could be felt creeping along the skin. Could be heard in their breathless gasps. Soon, they would return to one.

Panting, The Hunter lent forward, exposing his abdomen. He always felt weak, feebler as the time of separation went on.

"Come to me." He ordered in a croaky voice that trembled with need.

Great orb white, pupil-less eyes widen in response; white sharp teeth, behind the slash that passed as IT's mouth, split as it gave a harsh bark of laughter, as a bolt of electricity fired between them both. The merging had begun.

It was then that the wind became even more erratic, whirling faster as though desperate to outrun their heady breaths. A whizzing, whipping frenzied maelstrom of power and noise, as the distant bells of Île de la Cité, rang out their distress towards this unholy defilement upon their land. It was a tolling malady, a fanfare of chaos, a maddening concoction of over stimulating proportions that they could resist no longer.

IT screamed! A wild, ear piercing, wail, screeched from his Internal Tracker, as it lunged straight into The Hunter's stomach. With a horrible squealing yell, The Hunter was knocked clean off his feet. Landing hard on the ground; desperately sucking in lungful's of air, as spasms of delight charged through his entire body. Small, white lights popping in front of his eyes, as he laid there dazed.

A warm breeze swept down the length of the alleyway. Trees rustled lazily and the mundane rumble of cars filled the air once more. The maelstrom had ended as abruptly as it had come.

On trembling knees, The Hunter managed to hoist himself to his feet; bestial limbs forced to stand, despite feeling on the point of fainting. He found himself struggling with consciousness; senses manically vibrating, at the bombardment of subliminal messages that his Internal Tracker feed.

"Yes." The Hunter moaned. IT had given him what he wanted. Had told him all he needed to know. Nihal had been here! Savoring the rush of sensations, his stimulation began to climb. Hot pulses spiking deep within, drenching him in sweat, forcing him to the brink of climactic release. Assuming The Oneness, always took him like this.

"C'est le vent." A loud, angry voice crashed out of the depth nowhere, as a light bloomed suddenly from one of the windows overhead. Tensing, The Hunter instinctively backed into the alley wall, retreating deeper into the fading shadows. Eyes streaming, he swayed, trying to focus on the intruding spot. There, leaning up against the window pane, stood a grim, grey haired, old man. His brows were drawn together in scowl, the corners of his mouth set into a stern, cold line. His eyes all the while were frantically searching. "Le vent!" The man shouted, clearly annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Le vent." He called once more; the light instantly flicking off, before he disappeared entirely from view.

Remaining completely still, minutes pass, before The Hunter was absolutely certain of the man's retreat. At which point, he growled in frustration, flushing both in mortification and anger. He had been careless. Carelessness was a thing for novices, something in which his long years and experience should have made him exempt from. Not only had it denied him reaching pure bliss, it had almost lost him the chase too. Detection was simply something in which he never intended to court. This hunt was far too important for that.

With his insides writhing in anger, he turned his attention instead towards the sky; to the smoky infusion of warm colours, as the sun began its steady climb over the distant horizon. The time for departure, was long overdue.

Extending his wings, he smiled to himself. In all his long years, he had never once lost an intended prey. He was not about to do so now. With the reassurance of such knowledge, he flapped his vast, midnight wings and launched himself into the sky.

* * *

AQUITTED OF ALL CHARGES.

Entitled the story on the front page of The Daily Prophet's later version; The Evening Prophet, underneath of which followed a caption of the ever arrogant Malfoy family.

"Of course the whole thing was a sham to begin with." Mr. Weasley exclaimed in tones of great dissatisfaction. "Fudge only brought it to trial because Dumbledore pushed the matter. After that it was a case of be seen to be doing the right thing, or else encourage more talk about his _worthiness_ as minister." He sighed deeply. "The pity is people will believe him for as long as it's reasonably possible to."

"Why's that dad?" Ron asked, a puzzled frown crinkling his forehead.

They were sat snug around the Weasley's kitchen table, Mrs. Weasley having once again out done herself by providing a splendid array of homemade food for them to tuck into. Tonight's delicious creation had been homemade chicken pie, roast potatoes and peas, promptly followed by an ample helping of rhubarb crumble and ice cream; of which Harry had already devoured two helpings and was steadily tucking into his third.

"People just don't want to think about the alternative. If Fudge is wrong about this, then perhaps he's wrong about other things too. Until eventually, we get to the part that people fear to be true above all else."

"Voldermort." Harry finished for him, as a gasp rang out around the table, upon mention of said name.

"_Don't say his name_!" Mr. Weasley scolded, before taking a calming breath. "But yes Harry that _unfortunately _is the reason."

"How much evidence do people need?" Anger infused Harry's entire body at the thought of how stupid the entire wizarding community could be. The result of which causing him to slam his spoon down onto the table, as a splattering of ice cream and rhubarb pieces flew quite spectacle across the worn surface. The rest of the room immediately fell silent. "The weather! The disappearances! _Cedric Diggory_!"

"We _know_ Harry." Hermione pleaded. She had arrived at the Weasley's three days before him, a factor in which Harry had never really understood why it galled at him so. Now however; as she continued, he wished it were that emotion that troubled him, not this ever increasing pool of shame that Hermione often had a way to making him feel. "Please Harry. I wish you wouldn't take it out on us."

"I wasn't tak..." He tried to plead, but Hermione; as ever, ploughed on.

"Mr. Weasley was only trying to explain what's plain for everyone to see. As long as there's uncertainty, people will find any excuse not to believe."

"I _know_." He really wished Hermione wouldn't do this. He felt completely foolish now, it didn't help that he thought he actually deserved to. "I'm sorry." He said to the table top, too ashamed to look anyone in the eye. "It's just." He whispered disheartenly. "I should never have done it. I should never have done that bloody interview." He was so angry, so upset that he had never felt more lost. "All it's done is given Voldermort the perfect opportunity to make me look a fool."

"Whatever the outcome Harry." Hermione scolded. "The truth needed to be put out there." She would say that. It had been her after all, who had convinced him to do the interview in the first place. He frowned at her to show what he truly thought about that, and was rewarded by a steady blush rising in her checks.

"Hermione's right Harry." Mr. Weasley soothed. "Whatever the outcome, the truth _is_ out there now. That truth will eventually allow people to see the right of things in the end."

"What use is later?" Harry exclaimed feeling absolutely dreadful as he turned grim faced to Mr. Weasley. "The things Voldermort will be able do! It's now that they need to believe."

* * *

The sneer that Dolores Umbridge had managed to retain throughout the entire duration of the trial, faltered slightly, as her gaze was suddenly attracted by a covert display unfolding before her. The Minister and Lucius were still heavily locked in conversation, after what could only be called a farce of a trial. Now having accompanied her to her office, Fudge had all but dismissed her with an air of conscious superiority that she neither cared nor was offended by. Instead she simply combated it with an inner pride of her own, that she hid behind a semblance of humidity. If her suspicions were correct, Cornelius would not be so smug for long. Perhaps given what she was certain was coming, and what she herself planned. Then she, Dolores Jane Umbridge, may very well find herself in such pride of place as Minister for Magic itself.

"Oho." Fudge exclaimed, rocking backwards and forwards on his toes. "Yet another cock-and-bull story designed by Potter foiled."

She was only vaguely lending her ear to their conversation, though she had gleamed enough to understand that the Minister was apparently pleased with himself. It made her sick that such incompetence was awarded with so much power.

Shaking her head, she sighed mournfully, turning her scrutiny towards the walls of her office, hoping that the extensive paraphernalia of all things she adored would settle the bitterness. Unfortunately the lavish decorations and ridiculously cute kittens, failed to distract her for long.

"Potter has always been Dumbledore's favorite." Lucius agreed.

Cornelius beamed at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction, as he hovered excitedly beside the wall. The fool actually believed that he had achieved some sort of victory today. It was pathetic. She longed for the day when he realised that he was stood amongst his betters.

Sparing only a glance towards the man she had once held with such high esteem and admiration, she began to feel the familiar bouts of sensations bombarded her, as her gaze settled on that of the taller of the two men. Like a woman dying of thirst, she indulged in a greedy stare that drank in the fine contours of Mr. Malfoy's strong frame. Ruthless and cunning; attributes that she greatly admired; he was a man who was not afaired to do whatever it took to get where he wanted.

"I doubt Dumbledore will have the nerve to try such a thing again." Cornelius gloated appreciatively.

Enough was enough!

"_Hem, hem_." All eyes turned in her direction. Feeling her throat tighten momentarily as her eyes caught Lucius's, she coughed fussily before proceeding. "I'm sorry to interrupt you gentlemen. So silly of me." Allowing a small, simpering laugh to escape. "But I cannot help but believe Cornelius that you might have misunderstood what today was really about."

"I am at a lost as to what you mean by that Dolores?" Cornelius frowned as he looked incredulously from her to Lucius.

"Could you not see what Dumbledore's true intentions were?" She pressed on in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Nothing more than a failed attempt at scare mongering." Still bouncing up and down, in that annoying fashion of his.

"He sat back and did nothing Cornelius. He kept quite because he had no plausible evidence against Lucius. The whole affair was nothing more than a ploy. A ploy used in the hope that you; and forgive me for saying this, that you would bungle the whole affair. He does not believe that you are capable of running the Ministry now that you have broken from him." Remembering at the last to hoist, what she hoped was a convincing look of anguish. The statement had the desired effect. Fudge looked as though he had been struck in the face, as he stood there frozen in mid-bounce, with his mouth dumbly hanging open. "Minister." She pleaded in her softest voice. After years of working in the Ministry she had discovered that harsh words and a dominating demeanor was not necessarily a recipe for success. "Today's antics are a great example. To keep so quiet, after pushing so hard? It certainly seems somewhat suspect. I think his aims are perfectly clear..." Surely even he would realize what she was getting at? Remaining silent, she watched intently as the Minister's flabby face struggled for comprehension.

"Preposterous!" Cornelius finally exclaimed, after what could only be described as a ridiculously lengthy silence. "Dumbledore wouldn't dare!" He dismissed with a wave of his hand, as he laughed with forced hilarity.

Leaping furiously from her chair, she slammed her stubby hands on her desktop, fighting the urge to seize him by the throat. "You stupid man!" She snapped.

"Dolores." Lucius warned. "Calm yourself. You don't want to get yourself into trouble now."

At the sound of her name from those lips, her anger quickly abated. Lust for Lucius entered her. It tested her patience and tempted her to do the most unacceptable things. Lust made her skin tingle and her body ache with wanting.

"No." She replied breathlessly, re-straightening a pencil that had been dislodged by her momentary rage from its regimental line-up. "I mean, yes you're right. Forgive me Minister." She croaked. "Forgive me. It's just...I cannot bear to see you used so." Wildly inventing with a sickly smile of forgiveness added as an after thought. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run." Meaning to do just that. "But you have allowed yourself to be exposed to a man, not only of great irresponsibility, but a man whose designs have been from the start, aimed at destroying you. He made you dependent on him, forcing you to doubt your own capabilities, and then taking away his support in the hope of watching you crumble."

"What are you saying?"

"He played you for a fool."

"But I cleared Lucius?" Blustered Fudge.

"To the eyes of the wizarding world, it looked as though _you _were on some sort of power trip. No evidence but the word of a boy, who has an obvious hate towards the Malfoy family. No reason to subject Mr. Malfoy to the ordeals of a trial, but for a man who has clearly lost his mind. It does not look good for you Cornelius." Addressing he with such a condescending tone, to make it seem as if he were nothing but a simpleton, or in the very least a young child.

"I cannot...that he would dare...He must be stopped!" It really was quite fascinating how quickly a face could turn so red.

"As I have been saying all along." Umbridge continued calmly, though her stomach flutter with nerves. This had to be handled correctly. "If you agree to the proposal that I drafted this summer, you can hit him at the source of his power. Hogwarts. He has twisted the minds of our children for far too long. He has plotted and schemed with the reassurance that the Ministry cannot touch him there. We must strike and strike now, before it is too late."

"I am certain that I speak for all parents alike when I say, we would feel much easier in our minds, if we knew that Dumbledore were being subjected to a fair and objected evaluation by the Ministry." Lucius interjected unexpectedly. "Many of us with our children's best interest at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's more _eccentric_ decisions." He continued in a voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "The appointment of the werewolf Remus Lupin for instance. Allowing dangerous half-breeds like Rubeus Hagrid to terrorize our children with beast he sees as nothing more than harmless pets, and if that were not enough! He employs the delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody." He acclaimed with a snobbish show of bravado. "Who not only performed illegal curses in front of Hogwarts students, but actually preformed them on them as well! Need I say anymore Minister? Something has got to be done."

"He mocks you Cornelius." Dolores took up as she walked around her desk, coming to rest directly behind the Minister. "He has always done what he wishes with no fear of consequence. To the majority of wizards, you are nothing more than a puppet on a string."

"Surely it was plain for all to see, that_ I _saw the trial as nothing more than a farce?" Fudge looked horrified, despite the fact that his voice was thick with anger.

"A farce it may well have been, but it was one in which you and you alone acted upon."

"I had no other choice, Dumbledore..." Amended Fudge angrily.

A small smile spread across her lips, as she patted the Minister on the shoulder. "You are the Minister for Magic! You should not have to answer to _anyone_." Whispering the last directly into his ear. He was one of the few men, her height allowed her to do so with.

As if in sync Lucius made his move. "Clearly he regrets not taking on the Minister's job after Millicent Bagnold retired. And this scare mongering about You-know-Who? Created I dare say, just to stir up trouble. No doubt in the hope that the wizarding community will flock to him, like he were their only saving grace." They were working together; the two of them, like a well-played chest game. A game in which the Minister was sorely losing.

"I think it's obvious what needs to be done." Unleashing her most softest, most sweetly girlish voice. "Let this be his punishment for spreading nasty, attention seeking stories."

"By thunder!" Fudge exclaimed.

"It must be so Cornelius. Not only does he support a boy like Potter who appears to be unbalanced, and for all we know, violent. He lavishes affections on a boy, who in the position that he is in, grossly undermines the trust that you have employed in him. Can we allow for such a man, who indulgences in these unhealthy relationships with his students, a free reign at Hogwarts?" There was a short silence in which the Minister frowned, eyes locked in a stare towards some unforeseen horror. "It would not surprise me, if he weren't trying to recruit our students for some sort of army. Dumbledore's Army perhaps."

"But-but-" Terror blazed on Fudge's face, as leapt backwards. "He wouldn't dare!" He yelped, practically choking on the words. "Then he _has_ been plotting against me!"

"All you need do Cornelius, is to pass through my legislation." Refusing to ease up on the pressure. "This will not only allow the Ministry to finally achieve an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts. It will be a necessary step towards ensuring that you remain securely as Minister for Magic." There could be no mercy.

"Dumbledore will not make it easy." The last ounce of resistance seemed to ebb out of the Minister's body. His shoulders slumped as his entire posture bunched defensively.

"Dumbledore needs to be reminded, that even he is not above the law." She whispered triumphantly. "Well Minister?" Waving a hand impatiently in his face. "It is not too late to do the right thing."

Ogling her with a sort of horrified delight, Cornelius nodded. "Yes, yes of course." He eventually spluttered out. "Very well."

Smiling widely and admitting a little laugh. _'Check mate.'_ Dolores thought victoriously.

"You have done the right thing Cornelius. Hogwarts _needs_ a High Inquisitor."

Watching the Minister all but stumble out of the room; she shook her head sadly. How had she ever thought of this man with such pride? It was saddening really, but useful.

"I think it a foolish mistake to underestimate Dumbledore, Madame Undersecretary." Lucius quipped as he seated himself in front of her desk. "However much I detest the man, I _can_ acknowledge that he is a skilled and well accomplished wizard. If anything the more unstable he acts, the more concerned I become. For it is my belief that Dumbledore does not do anything, without considerable thought behind it."

"Are you suggesting that we do nothing?" Her blood pressure tellingly rising as she gritted her teeth and forced a smile.

"You will never hear me say that Dolores." There it was again, her name from those lips. The things it did to her! Cornelius had been a welcome distraction, now however, with just the two alone in the room; there was nothing to hold back her lustful cravings. She could actually feel herself begin to burn with arousal. Flushing, Dolores was thankful for her earlier bout of anger. If her cheeks were not red enough before, they were certainly flaming now.

Smiling benignly she offered Lucius her simple logic, as she ambled somewhat slowly towards her seat. The friction of her movement causing a wetness of wanting between her legs.

"We are just counter-scheming his scheming Lucius." Purring his name, as he merely offered her an amused nod in return. "I will need help." Desperately trying to order her thoughts. "Someone who I can be sure will not allow themselves to be intimidated by Dumbledore."

"Who do you have in mind?" He was playing with her; she could hear it in his voice.

_"Oh you are a naughty boy."_ In the pretence of trying to find a comfortable spot, she began awkwardly grinding her thighs together, trying to ease herself of the sea of sensations that were rapidly building within her.

"You of course Mr. Malfoy." She had long ago discovered his dark secret, the one in which he had only just been cleared from, aand if he refused to aid her in this, she would result to whatever means possible to get him on her side. After all, Dolores had always considered herself to be a fortuitous woman and these advantageous combination of circumstances, were far too intoxicating to simply over look.

With times being the way they were, certain schemes were clearly beginning to be set into motion. It was only to prudent a time for her to start exercising one or two of her own. Necessary precautions were a must, if one wished to safe guard her own ideologies for the future. But there was always time for a bit of fun first.

"Me?" Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Eying him slyly, she drank in the fine contorts of his strong, solidly built body. The deliciously cold grey eyes, set within a well sculptured face and framed; delectably, by waves of pale blond hair. She had a thing for powerful men, and Lucius Malfoy had it in droves.

"He has already tried his worst on you and failed. What better companion could I asked for?" Taking another deep breath, she watched as he contemplated the idea. The occasion presenting with it the perfect opportunity to once again satisfy the flames within her. Grinding her thighs together, she bit back the moan that was building in her throat.

"You can sedate your impatience." He quipped, watching her squirm on the chair. "I have made up my mind."

_"Impatience?"_ Dolores thought bewildered. _"Merlin's beard!" _He thought her riddled with irritability. Embarrassed at finding herself in such a conspicuous situation, and a little relived that he had not quite grasped fully her predicament was; unsurprisingly, quite the sobering process.

"I will accompany you to Hogwarts."

Giggling like a school girl, she failed miserable to hide her blush. "Excellent. Dumbledore won't know what's hit him."


End file.
